


Lightweights

by TheGrumppuccino



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGrumppuccino/pseuds/TheGrumppuccino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU in which Fenris and Garrett Hawke are best friends with a bit of sexual tension. Fenris has a crush on their waitress Isabela, and Hawke tries to play matchmaker. A decent amount of alcohol in everyone's systems makes things a bit messy.</p><p>Mostly just a one-off I did while bored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

　　Unfortunately, I don’t realize that I’ve had too many tequila shots until I go to take a step, and find that the floor has suddenly become slippery. I didn’t remember spilling my drink, except a bit on the front of my shirt, so when my leg begins to ascend after I attempt to plant it, I feel panic rising in my chest. I end up on my back, and the shot glass, thankfully plastic, bounces behind my head on the tile.  
　　A hand grabs mine, and lifts me up in a very dexterous manner. The face is blurry, the cheeks seems too thin and sallow to be real. The white lengths of his hair seem to go all different directions, and I try not to laugh, and end up drooling on my chin.  
“You’re an ugly fucker.” I giggle like I shouldn’t be laughing.  
　　“Garrett, it’s Fenris.” There is no amusement in his voice.  
　　Of course it’s Fen. “Right!” I am too excited, or he’s not enough. I don’t know which. I try and decide whether his eyes are blue or green, and when they’d gotten so pretty all of a sudden. I want a smoke.  
　　“You need to lay down. You’re way too far gone to be doing shots.” He still has no humour. His arm is around my waist quickly, and I lean into him like a crutch.  
　　“I’ll get that boy you were talking to, fuckshisname, Andy or something, to come in and sit with you, okay?” Fenris says, easing me forward and leaning in opposition every time I start to fall, anchoring me in place.  
　　“He’s pretty.” I say, remembering whatshisfuck Anders, the boy with the sandy hair who Isabela had introduced me to earlier. “You’re pretty.” I roll my head to rest against Fen’s head and shoulder as we walk, annoyed at the height difference. I dwarf him.  
Fen finds his sense of humour. “You just called me an ugly fucker. Make up your mind.” He squeezes me, not hard enough to hurt though.  
　　“I’d...” I forget the word for a moment. “I’d do you.” I say, confident.  
　　He laughs, but it’s nervous, or distracted.  
　　We reach the nearest room, door closed of course, and while he’s opening it, I manage to notice his belt is undone. Vaguely, I remember he and Isabela had slipped into a bedroom together.  
　　“How was Isabela?” I am much more coherent now. I think.  
　　His lips do a dance before they settle on compressing into a thin line. “No good.”  
　　I don’t know if he means me or the sex. I settle on both, and let him help me flop down onto the bed. Fenris sits next to me, arm still around me.  
　　“Maybe I’m just not into girls. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being foolish.”  
　　My senses perk up. “Girls like Isabela, or you comin’ out to me?” I manage to shred the inside of my cheek with my molars while I talk.  
　　He is quiet for a moment. “That is... irreverent, Garrett.”  
　　Alcohol gave me courage, but a logical area of my brain resisted my urge to suck on the side of his neck. “You just gotta be happy being you man. Happy. Everything’s good.” I pat his shoulder.  
　　He leans in and kisses me with his eyes closed.  
　

× × ×  
　

　　Fenris sits across from me wearing a black denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His white ink tattoos poke out from where the shirt is unbuttoned, and I enjoy watching where they traverse down the lengths of his lithe body. It is my favourite tattoo I’ve ever seen.  
　　There is a pitcher of iced tea between us, left by the beautiful waitress in her effort to save herself a trip back to the table. Fenris has had his eyes on her the whole time. Our respective plates of chips have arrived, but not our sandwiches.  
　　“You’re lucky you live so close to campus. I mean, I’m lucky you live so close to campus. It’s rather cold to drive a ways out.” He takes a sip, some of the tea getting trapped on his upper lip. I can tell he is offput by the waitress; he is normally quieter.  
　　I lean towards him, and am slightly startled at how cold the table is when my stomach touches it. Such is the problem with tight shirts, and the way they ride up on a long torso. I almost envied the obese. “You got some on your lip.” I pause, my gray eyes level with his, the intense green I was madly jealous of, and he nods. I swipe my finger lightly across his face, feeling the smooth texture of his skin, the oil of my fingers and his lip, and I reach for a napkin with my other hand, cleaning my finger off.  
　　“This is why people think we’re gay.” He laughs in a deadpan manner.  
　　“We?” I steal one of his chips. “Don’t lump me in with your problems.”  
　　“Very funny.”  
　　“Serious. No joke. I could be straight.” I take a deep breath. “Beer and vaginas!” I purposely contort my voice; it is loud, it is scratchy, and I need a sip of tea.  
　　Fenris looks constipated. His eyes bounce like rubber about the room rapidly, and then fixate on his drink. “I don’t want to get kicked out.” No one even notices us.  
　　“They can’t kick us out.” I steal another chip. “We haven’t paid yet.”  
　　The waitress drops by the table with our food, a cuban for me, and a sloppy joe for Fen. His eyes dart from the sandwich to her ass as she walks away, trailing up the olive skin of her legs like he had never seen something feminine before.  
　　I was more interested with how little meat was in my sandwich.  
　　“Why are the portions so small?” I take an oversized bite. “Itsuhfuckngdeli.”  
　　Fen’s eyebrow arches. “Excuse you?”  
　　“I’m not good at talking with my mouth full.” I wink back.  
　　He looks at his plate for a moment, before grabbing his sandwich with both hands. The juice oozes onto his ring finger, and he makes a face.  
　　“Ask her for a napkin.” I nod towards the waitress, leaning against another table. Fen looks to her, staring. I tap his shoulder. “Seriously.” I nod again.  
　　“We have napkins here...” He looks at me like I’m the juice on his hand.  
　　I pick up the napkin dispenser, and drop it on the table behind us without looking. “Not anymore.”  
　　“You insufferable-.” He hunches forward.  
　　“Ask her!”  
　　“Fuck no.” He drops his sandwich and the juice splatters onto the table.  
　　“I’ll do it.”  
　　“Fuck you.” He sighs, and straightens up, though he still looks about like someone might have seen me move the dispenser, and we might be ejected at any moment.  
　　He waves once to get her attention. “Miss?” He looks too long at her nametag, hooked on a very revealing top, unbuttoned more than halfway down.  
　　To her credit, she feigns interest very well. Fenris gestures to the missing napkin dispenser, juice now dripping from his hand onto the table. She retrieves the dispenser, and her smile is dazzling, if not a little exaggerated... Much like her cleavage, I think.  
　　Fenris leans back in his chair, stretching his shoulders. His shirt peeled back a bit, showing more of his chest and tattoo, and I noticed the waitress enjoyed the sight as much as I did.  
　　“Isabela right?” Fenris tilts his head a bit, and an adorable and somehow innocent smile spreads.  
　　“Yeah.” She nods, looking from him to me. Then back to his chest.  
　　“That’s such a... unique name.” He says, leaning forward to say more.  
　　I kick his leg under the table, and he winces, turning his attention to me. I mouth the word ‘creepy.’  
　　“...Right.” Isabela coughs into her elbow, and I see her eyes roll. Her dark hair falls over her face, and it’s actually quite a good pose for her.  
　　She makes an awkward half-smile, and turns around. “If you get a chance, bring me the check please.” I call after her.  
　　Fen’s head is in his hands. “I’m stupid.” He says.  
　　We finish eating quickly, and he goes to wash his hands. Isabela takes this as her cue to bring the check.  
　　I feel an itch for redemption. “He’s very intimidated by beautiful women.”  
　　She pauses with the check on the table, but doesn’t let go of it. “He’s weird.”  
　　“He’s a sweetheart though, I promise. Sorry if he weirded you out, he just doesn’t know how to communicate with girls he likes.” I cross my legs under the table.  
　　“And you do?” She knows, but wants me to say it.  
　　“I don’t have to like girls to see he has good taste.” I say.  
　　Finally, she smiles, and lets go of the check. “He’s pretty hot.” There is an air of relieved admittance about her; like she wanted to tell someone, and found me.  
　　“There you go. He and I are having some people over tonight, he’ll probably try and invite you on the way out, if he isn’t sneaking out the back door.”  
　　Isabela glances around. “I could use a challenge.” She speaks with her entire face.  
　　“Take this as your invitation.” I tell her the address, and she puts it in her phone. “Bring me some eye candy and I’ll have whatever drinks you like.” I wink.  
　　There isn’t even a pause. “Bacardi Dragonberry. Deal. Hot guy’s name is?”  
　　“Fenris. Fen for short.” I slide the bill over. “Write your number down here, he’ll text you, or I will.”  
　　She complies, and looks up to see Fen coming back from the bathroom. “Let it be a surprise. Gotta go.”  
　　She’s returned to the kitchen when he sits down. “What was all that?”  
　　I pass him the bill, and fish a cigarette out of my pocket. “My wingman fees. Pay up. We need more booze.”  
　

　× × ×  
　

　Isabela arrives at 10:37 precisely, and I know this because Fenris checks his phone for the time every thirty seconds. Various friends of ours have scattered about the house, Merrill and Varric lost in conversation while mixing drinks, and while the alcohol is about halfway depleted, I’ve threatened anyone coming near the Dragonberry rum. She walks up with a short-ish guy near attached to her hip, and I see immediately she’s kept up her end of the bargain. I’ve not yet started to drink, but I open one of the fifths as Fen gets the door.  
　　We share an awkward moment of glancing between faces. “Hey.” I smile widely. If I don’t speak, the heterosexuals are bound to stand there in uncomfortable silence.  
　　Isabela smiles, shakes Fen’s hand, and introduces her friend as Anders. While pouring a drink for each of us, I take the moment to observe him. Light brown hair, sandy almost. Eyes are brown, much darker than his hair. Probably about five foot seven, can’t be any more than twenty, like me. Completely clean-shaven, I note with subtle distaste. His jaw is almost as angular as mine; sharp enough to make shaving an impossibly problematic endeavour. I’d have to know his secrets. The rum would get him to spill.  
　　I handed Anders his glass first. I made sure to hold it awkwardly, so our hands would brush when he went to take it from me. A moment more of conversation reveals that both Isabela and he attend the same university as Fenris and I.  
　　“Well, I’m graduating in a semester” Isabela says, “But Anders is a junior. I’m his RA, actually.” She seems a little embarrassed.  
　　“Odd we’ve never bumped into eachother on campus.” I say to everyone, but keep my eyes mostly on Anders. “Fenris and I are juniors as well.”  
　　Anders’ voice is higher than I expected, but still pleasant. I’m envious. “I’m a pre-med majour. We don’t get out much. They keep us in the corner away from everyone else really.” He looks at his shoes a lot when he talks. To be fair, they’re too nice to be at a party in my house. I make a mental note to remind him to put them somewhere safe, and vomit-free.  
　　I offer Anders a cigarette from my dwindling stash. “Smoke?”  
　　He looks like I’ve told him we’re out of booze. “Er... No.”  
　　“Health professionals don’t smoke for the most part.” Isabela sympathizes. “It’s part of their whole ‘sexy, forbidden desire’ persona.” She winks.  
　　Fenris smiles a little too infrequently. “Is that what it’s called?”  
　　“No fucking way.” Anders laughs, but its very nervous.  
　　Isabela and Fen end up going one way, and I don’t really notice how it happens, but Anders and I are standing in the doorway together not speaking, so I grab his hand and pull him out of the house with me. He complies too easily; he was waiting for me to touch him, I can tell. He’s got my compromised morals, I note with glee.  
　　I pull him to the sidewalk, leaving the door open. “I’m gonna smoke a few, stand upwind if you gotta.” He nods.  
　　I take a drag, and wish I’d worn a jacket. “How’s school going?” I’m normally better at smooth-talking.  
　　He shrugs. “A’s and B’s I think.”  
　　“Better than me.” I wonder how long I’d have to know him before we got into personal talk. Before we learned the little things about eachother that ended friendships, before I talked too much and he too little; before I mentioned Carver. I wondered the best things to say to get him into my bed tonight. He was definitely good looking; a catch for sure. “Those damn Dr. Sexy classes can’t be too hard, right?” I inhale the smoke.  
　　I’m probably losing points with him. I gauge this by the relatively offended look on his face, but it could be the smoke blowing in his direction from my next exhalation.  
　　“Well...” He seems to want to reason with himself for the sake of my benefit. “You get graded on life or death responses to ‘patients’. It can be pretty shitty.” He uses airquotes a lot.  
　　I like the way I can feel his voice in my chest like a drum, even outside in the snow.  
He makes his swears sound like kisses on my ears. Kisses I intend to take later.  
　　I decide on one cigarette being enough, and stomp out the embers. “Let’s head back inside. There’s still some Dragonberry left.”  
　　Anders smiles, genuinely I can tell because of the way his mouth pulls back to the point that his upper lip curls. I can’t tell if I actually like him, or if I’m just playing the good friend to Fen. Or if I’m not thinking with the right head.  
　　“You guys know any drinking games?” He asks.  
　　“We’ve got Drunk Jenga somewhere.” I fiddle with my keychain without paying it much attention. “And a deck of cards I think.”  
　　“Cool. We can just talk more inside too.” He says.  
　　“I’d like that.” I smile, and we walk back inside.  
　

　× × ×  
　

　　I hear laughter, and wonder how Fenris could laugh with his lips on mine. I’m also angry that someone is interrupting my fantasy.  
　　Fen whips backward, nose smacking mine as he twists. I turn, more slowly, to see Isabela standing in the doorway, highly intoxicated and very amused.  
　　“No wonder you couldn’t fucking get it up.” She points at Fen. “You’re fucking him. He’s fucking you. No wonder.”  
　　His face is already flushed from drinking, but it gets redder. He looks like an animal backed into a corner.  
　　“Hey. People gotta experiment to know what they like.” I try to lean forward, but feel my stomach disagreeing as I do. I butcher the word ‘experiment.’  
　　“Can’t fucking believe it.” She’s not laughing, but she’s silently enjoying herself. It seems more sinister somehow. More conniving. Like a bird of prey, somehow.  
　　Fen scoots backward so he’s further onto the bed, belt clanging loudly as he does. “I thought maybe-”  
　　“-You better think definitely. You like dudes.” She laughs again, and the weight of it knocks her off balance to the point that she needs to lean against the doorframe.  
　　“You like dick.” She says. I can see Anders behind her, not looking, but listening.  
　　“Listen bitch.” I lean forward more, and my stomach ends the argument between us by graphically emptying me all over the floor, Isabela’s Converse, and the tiles in the hallway.  
　　She screams, flails her hands vividly, and kicks her feet up way too late. Anders’ jaw drops, but he quickly covers it with his hand. He mutters an almost inaudible “Ew.”  
　　“Maker’s breath. I’m out. Fuck you both.” And she’s gone. Anders and I make eye-contact, and he follows her with a sad little smile.  
　　I turn to Fenris, and wipe my mouth on my sleeve. “S’Alright. She’s a bitch anyway.”  
　　He’s got his knees up to chest, and won’t look up at me. I nudge him, and he pulls away. “What?” I nudge him again.  
　　“Don’t touch me, just don’t.” He raises his hands like he needs to block a punch.  
　　I don’t start to feel bad until now. “She’s not worth it man. You can do better. I know you can.” I may or may not be slurring hideously. Most likely.  
　　Fen gets up, and almost falls over immediately. “Just, don’t talk to me..” He steps right in my vomit.  
　　“What?” I have to swallow twice to assuage my throat before I can continue. “Why?”  
　　“Just don’t.”  
　　He walks out, and if he hurried, I would bet he could catch up to Isabela and Anders, but he takes his time until he’s out of my sight. I sit on the bed, throat sore, staring at the puddle of vomit between my feet. There is a moment when I consider getting a mop.  
　　Instead, I fish out one of my last cigarettes, and light it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drunk Hawke has an incidental meeting with Isabela, and the both of them end up at Varric's party,  
> where Fenris and Hawke discuss their feelings about their 'incident.'

　　I don’t hear from Fenris for a good two weeks. I expected him to cave quickly, dial me up to see if I was free for lunch or coffee; instead, the one time we met on campus, he deliberately cut his path in the opposite direction when he spotted me. I pretended to be indifferent, hiked my nose up in the cold air and stuffed my hands into my pockets with a huff, but he had already made his exit, and my fuss was for naught.  
　　I am with Isabela, surprisingly, when I do get a text from him. She and I bumped into eachother at the Hanged Man, the only bar close enough to campus that was safe enough to walk home from. We made eye contact, and I think it was the subtle biting of her lip that made me brave enough to walk over. She might be suggestive, but I don’t fear her bite, not one bit.  
　　“Come here often?” I ask, swinging my arm around, careful not to spill my beer.  
　　“Only to wash the taste of closet case out of my mouth.” She quips, tone even. She brushes her hair back over her ears; pierced in three places, I note.  
　　“That a usual problem for you?” I have to lean forward at a very uncomfortable angle to drink like this; but I refuse to release her.  
　　“Not as often as you, I think. All puppy-dog eyes and best-friend blowjobs, you.” She takes my beer and I let her.  
　　I resist the urge to scratch my beard. I resist the urge to be serious. I definitely resist any semblance towards being sober about this. “Buy me a drink and I’ll let you see how good I am with my mouth.”  
　　She laughs, and I remember the way she exhaled at the deli, when I invited her to come to the party. It is a momentary release, but she seems open to me now. “Cute offer, but I’ll pass for now. Your tastes are questionable, silly boy.”  
　　“I can’t imagine what’s to question about the taste of you.” I don’t slur, interestingly enough. Not a single word. I raise a finger sloppily however, and smile like a simpleton. “Regret. You taste of regret. And my beer.” I giggle a little.  
　　Wait... Why did I let her take my drink?  
　　Rather than be insulting, her feral grin deepened until she reminded me casually of something having just finished trapping its’ prey, and as her lips pulled back in a smile, I thought for a moment they might close around my throat. I would welcome it. The embrace of her canines, wolf-like, contrasted in their bloody coat by the white mane atop-  
　　Wait... Her hair was black, dark like mine. I shook my head with as much viciousness as I wanted her to give to me, and it did enough to clear my head. I was picturing someone other than her, but I couldn’t decide who. It must have been a leftover flavor of the week.  
　　She’s looking at me, at my lips, assessing me, and I go in for the kiss. It’s rushed, and we fumble a bit, but she doesn’t push me off. I’m an excellent kisser, drunk or not, and I know it. She’s my match for sure though, the way her bottom lip cups my own, and the gentlest bite she places against it, just to tug... Tug on my bottom lip, while I swear she purred.  
　　And in that moment, my phone vibrated loudly in my pocket, pressed between us... Salaciously touching the inside of both of her legs. She makes a startled “Ooh!” sound, but I push her back into the kiss, and she readily returns it. Only when we are both gasping for air, release from our drunken unrelenting passion, does she remind me about the text.  
　　I retrieve my phone from my pocket with some difficulty. “Fenris!” I say.  
　　Isabela’s expression immediately sours, but she doesn’t say anything.  
　　“Need to talk to you.” Is all the message says. Talk about underwhelming. He couldn’t even be bothered to be correct in his grammar. Nothing puts emphasis on the importance of a message like leaving off the “I” in “I need to talk to you.”  
　　Grudgingly, I start a reply, marveling at how easily he could remove himself from that sentence - and my life. I end up sending something like, “Oh?” or “Yeah?” without anything else; I know he hates it when my replies are as curt as his usually are. I think he mopes around all day, just waiting for the perfect lack of joy, to send his ideally brooding texts. Had I not been to his dorm room, I would think it likely to have the windows boarded up to kill the sunlight, and everything covered in black lace. In reality, it was mostly earth tones and nonfunctional electronics; but I still had my lingering suspicions.  
　　“What does your boyfriend want?” Isabela sounds as if I’ve just told her we were out of stock on our rash creams.  
　　“Don’t know. We haven’t talked since... All that, last time.” I say, evenly.  
　　“Ah.” She glances at my mouth. “I am... Sorry I guess. I was a bit of an ass then.”  
　　My eyes widen appreciatively. “You’ve got a great one anyhow!”  
　　I am rewarded with a small laugh, and a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Thank you for understanding. Things were tense last we saw eachother, but you at least, I can enjoy.”  
　　“Fen isn’t so bad you know. Maybe he’s-” I was going to say something irreverent, and caught myself, though Isabela caught it too.  
　　“Gay? Is that the word you weren’t going to spit out?”  
　　I shrug. “I don’t care what he is. I just want him to be happy.”  
　　“Happy together?” Her eyes crinkle, and I realize she reminds me of a cat. Where I got the wolf from earlier, is a complete mystery, and I wonder if I’m more of a lightweight than I had previously thought. I scratch my beard distractedly.  
　　My phone vibrates, thankfully sparing me from answering her question. As I retrieve my phone again, Isabela puts her hands over mine, blocking me from reading the message.  
　　“I’m not mad at him anymore. More like pity, if you believe that.”  
　　I do. I nod, to express this.  
　　“Good.” She removes her hands, and one travels up to my jaw, caressing gently. I barely hear anyone else in the bar, barely feel anything besides her hand on my skin. Not to give her the satisfaction, I look down at the message.  
　　“Varric is having a party at his place. Said to invite you. Said we need to make up.” I read to myself, and wonder if he could have been any more impersonal about it.  
　　“Wait a minute.” Isabela’s voice draws me back to reality.  
　　“Hmm?” I watch her lips, and am reminded of the way Fenris would hide his smile whenever I told a particular raunchy joke, but I could still see the faintest outline.  
　　“Aren’t you gay?” She cocks her head to the side.  
　　I let out a real, throaty laugh, and snatch my drink from her, downing the rest of the beer, pretending it was something good, as opposed to cheap piss water. “That’s the answer to a long series of questions I usually get, I think.” I burp loudly, and Isabela looks impressed. “Yeah, I’m gay. Sorry if I was leading you on.”  
　　She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. Too bad though. I could see myself-” She pauses. “Well i’m sure you can imagine.”  
　　I laugh. “Want to go to a party with me? Varric’s, apparently. You know Varric?”  
　　She visibly perks up. “Oh I love Varric!”  
　　I smile. “Good! Only thing is, Fen’s gonna be there too.”  
　　“I figured. Else, why would you have suddenly invited me to a party after checking a message he sent you?”  
　　“Oh. True.” I frown a little.  
　　“Pouty is a good look for you. Sort of... Come cheer me up, put your dick against my pouty lips.” She traces a finger over said lips, and a playfully lick it.  
　　“Right. I’ll go, I don’t care. I’m not apologizing though; if he looks for one, I’ll just leave. Just warning you.” She links our fingers together, tightening her grip on my hand.  
　　“Sounds good. Probably just gonna be a few people and lots of beer.”  
　　“I can handle that.” She says, and we head for the door.  


　　× × ×  


　　As it turns out, Varric’s place ends up being full of our collective group of friends and acquaintances; full enough that Isabela and I feel like more than the icing on the cake. Sebastian and Merrill are in the corner discussing the differences between Pagan beliefs and the Christian faith as they usually do; Aveline is someone’s D.D. And looking furiously overworked from the couch, holding a root beer. Varric is pouring a drink for Donnic and I don’t miss the look Aveline sends his way, though I think he does. To my surprise, Anders is there, looking as surprised to see me as I was him. His hair is pulled back, and I remember how beautiful he is; though I silently curse for looking at him, when I’d come to reconcile with Fenris.  
　　Speaking of which, I look around for him, and see only other familiar faces. The apartment is anything but large, so I know he’s lurking about in another room somewhere. What bad behavior; hiding out in a friend’s house during a party. I remind myself to discuss his isolationist tendencies with him when I have a chance.  
　　Isabela excuses herself from my side to speak to Varric, rather excitedly, and I take in more of the scene around me. Varric’s apartment is, as previously mentioned, quite small, but it is certainly functional. Spartan in decoration, but seemingly classy in its’ design; I am astonished that a straight man had better taste than me. I’d been here before of course, but never sober enough to appreciate it.  
　　Varric takes a moment to step away from Isabela and Donnic, and gives me a tight hug, one that I have to lean down significantly to achieve. He’s certainly short for a man, but dashingly handsome, and with an excellent narrative imagination; it’s easy to imagine him being something of a ladies man. Had he played for the other team.... I brushed my hair back from obscuring my eyes, and just easily brushed away such thoughts, which were neither here nor there.  
　　“Garrett, glad you made it! I didn’t know that Fenris would ever text you. As it is, I’m almost out of-” He turned to see Isabela pouring the last of a bottle into her cup. “-I’m out rum. I’ve got beers though; you could probably use one.” He reaches over, and grabs a beer, then pauses, and grabs another. “Take this to Fenris when you talk to him.”  
　　I take both beers and crane my neck towards Varric’s bedroom. “He in there?”  
　　“Nah. Bartrand’s room.”  
　　I thank him, and head to the only other closed door in the apartment. Without knocking, and with some difficulty, I open the door.  
　　Fenris is sitting on Bartrand’s bed, as there is no where else to do so, watching an episode of Archer. I grin; Archer is my favorite show.  
　　He turns towards the door almost frantically, and his white hair splays dramatically with the motion of his body. His green eyes are somewhat red; I wonder if it is from alcohol or weed. Varric is the biggest stoner of our group surprisingly, though Fenris had been known to partake on occasion.  
　　“Ah... You came.” He says, in his usual manner.  
　　I hand him the beer. “I did.”  
　　He takes it, and opens it with the hem of his shirt as I do the same, plopping down on the bed next to him, and closing the door behind me. We each take our first sip, and sit.  
　　He looks pained, so I speak.  
　　“Look, we don’t have to talk about anything. We can just be friends, and pretend like nothing ever happened.” I see him about to comment, so I hurried shove the rest of my thoughts into the air before he can begin. “It’s a much smaller deal than you’re making it; in fact, it’s nothing. Nothing between friends, water under the bridge and all that.”  
　　When it is his turn, as he realizes; Fenris is somber. “It’s not about that. Not at all.” He takes another sip of his beer, eyes now fixed on the television. “I snapped at you, ignored you, and you came back immediately. I made you the focus of my anger, when my repressed emotions were hardly an effect of anything you’d done. I used you as a conduit through which I might place blame on someone else, and for that, I am sorry.”  
　　“I love it when you exercise your massive, throbbing vocabulary on me.”  
　　He finally cracks a smile. “Mmm you should be glad most men can settle for someone with a... Sub-par one.” His side-eye is legendary.  
　　It is a taunt I am willing to take. “I am nothing if not above average!”  
　　“So you say. I think it more just loud, vapid overcompensation.” A full on grin, now.  
　　I realize the importance of the game we are playing, so I play along. “What makes you so sure I’m sub-par? Or is it that you feel intimidated by me?”  
　　Finally, he looks at me. “Your ass is better than any girl’s I’ve ever been with. You’re funny. No one is good looking, funny, AND good in bed. Er, well-endowed rather.”  
　　I smile, and attempt to make it a dazzling one as well. “Why Fen, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous! That or coming onto me.”  
　　The merriment in his eyes burns in full, and then fades.  
　　I cross my hands in my lap, thumbing over the top of my beer.  
　　A heavy silence falls over both of us, like the connection between Fenris and I were so fragile that even a hastily taken breath could pull it beyond taut, until it snapped. I notice he is fidgeting, and that’s when his hand reaches over.  
　　I at first think he will try to hold my hand, and for that, I hold my breath, wanting to breath in everything about this moment.  
　　Instead, he pats my knee.  
　　I exhale, wondering why I were drawn into whatever I had previously just felt.  
　　“I may have been; that night.”  
　　And so it is out in the open. “Are you sure? You had to have been pretty drunk.” I say, though I don’t remember him having drank much.  
　　He seems pensive, and it is a very pleasant look on him. I wonder if he ever looked ugly; even when angry, his eyes held a fearsome beauty, like something savage and untamed, no matter how feeble or delicate his body might appear. I watch the way his tattoos seem to move like ribbons with his body; very tight, white, beautiful ribbons.  
　　“Yes. I’m sure that is what it was.” He sounds as if he himself is unconvinced.  
　　“Well regardless, it’s not important.” I say. “Let’s go back to being besties, and I can help find you a girl that doesn’t think you’re... Sub-par.” I wink, though he is facing the television now.  
　　I laugh at how the monument Archer and Lana are traipsing around looks precisely like a pointy penis, and Fenris gives me a questioning look, one eyebrow cocked.  
　　“It looks like a dick.” I say, flatly.  
　　“Ah.” There’s fake disappointment in his tone. “I thought you more mature, but I see my thoughts were incorrect.”  
　　“Oh shut up. It does. It looks like a pointy dick. Everything in this place does apparently, holy shit.” I comment, as more faintly phallic buildings are shown.  
　　“Everything in nature looks like a vagina; take any Georgia O’Keefe painting for example. Only manmade things resemble penises; it reminds me of you. Overcompensating for a lack of natural ability.”  
　　Sometimes I am impressed with him, and sometimes I am furious. Right now, I am both.  
　　“You little shit!” I mix a laugh and a growl, and tackle him, forgetting about our beers until they are spilled all over us, and the bed.  
　　I lay on top of him, my body significantly larger than his, and I see momentary fear in his eyes, before it is replaced by some sort of acceptance. Immediately, I back off of him, and I think, if I looked, I would see something grateful in them.  
　　“Sorry. I’ll go-” But he is already rising.  
　　“I’ll get paper towels. I needed to throw out my empty soda anyway.” A can I had not noticed rises with him from the nightstand, and he leaves the room, leaving me as well.  
　　I feel my phone vibrate, and see it is a text from Isabela. “How’s it going with your boyfriend?” It says.  
　　“Okay.” I reply, not feeling much like typing. I feel somewhat hollow, like I expended quite something to get here, and the result is somehow less than what I had hoped to achieve.  
　　Fenris returns, and I pass it off as my selfish nature.  
　　He hands me the paper towels, and I set about trying to dry the bed as best I can, but we’ve done a serious number on it, with two mostly full beers now dampening the sheets.  
　　“Ah shit. Bartrand is going to kill us.” Fenris says.  
　　“Us? I was never here.” I say, and while I hear the lightness in my tone, I don’t feel it.  
　　Fenris smiles, and I think that maybe it was worth it.  
　　“I am not usually one for excessive companionship, but while I was out there, I noticed everyone talking excitedly about Drunk Jenga. I don’t know if you’ve played, but it is something like a mixture of truth or dare, strip teases, and a drinking game. If you’re interested, perhaps we could play, with everyone else?”  
　　Fenris hates large crowds, so I know he’s only doing this to make everything up to me. I could be a great friend, and simply sit here with him, and say it’s all fine. But I HAVE played Drunk Jenga, and usually, it ends with at least half the room naked; and that is an offer too tantalizing to pass up.  
　　I should say no, for Fen’s sake. But maybe, i’m not as good of a friend yet as I would like to be.  
　　“Sure.” I say with a smile, and quickly choose to forget about cleaning up the bed.


End file.
